


Bound to be Broken

by Bro_inski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paralyzed, Slow Build, angst like woah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:50:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6220651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bro_inski/pseuds/Bro_inski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One year ago Stiles Stilinski crashed his car into a tree in the middle of the night<br/>Five months ago he woke from his coma to find himself paralyzed and trapped in a wheelchair for the rest of his life<br/>Now, a pack scattered across the world needs to come together again to fight what may be their biggest challenge yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound to be Broken

**Author's Note:**

> This summary sucks, like seriously sucks. But the writing is really good, I'm actually really proud of this story right now and have big plans for it.

The first thing he notices when he surfaces from the dark place his mind has settled in is that the light is absolutely blinding. 

At the first twitch of his eyelids light floods his retinas in a vivid display of white hot brilliance that had his eyes clenching shut and his whole face screwing up into a grimace of pain. Sweet darkness falls again and brings with it voices from the world around him. For a few long seconds he can’t translate the sounds he hears into words and when they begin to translate into english he recognizes Scott’s voice right off the bat. 

“Shut up, shut. Mom said not to overwhelm him- can’t you see he’s waking up?” 

He loves his best bro, but right now his voice feels like icepicks buried in his eardrums. He manages to clench his throat hard enough to summon a whine of irritation that shuts up both boys arguing in the room. The silence that follows is stunning and he almost feels as though he has drifting under into the obliviousness again.   
He hears one of them shuffle their feet and the other cough though and manages to crack his left eye open. The light floods in again but he resolutely keeps his eye open despite the pain and the tears streaming from it. 

Scott’s blurry form rises up from the light and beside him he can pick out a curly head of brown curls and a pair of blue eyes opened wide in a doe in the headlights expression. Isaac. 

“Whiz happen. Where ‘m I?” He manages, still craning his head and squinting hard to make out Scott and Isaac occupying the two chairs next to his bed.   
Not his bed though, and not his chairs. There is no mistaking the sterile whiteness of everything in the room or the uncomfortable bed and chairs furnishing it. He’s sitting in a hospital bed, probably drugged half out of his mind if the state of his foggy head and missing memory has anything to do with it. 

“Uh, dude. There was a-“

“Don’t tell him yet you’ll just freak him out!” Scott whisper yelled at Isaac, which for Scott was just as loud as his normal speaking voice. Isaac rolled his eyes and pursed his lips at Stiles.

“He’s going to realize it in a minute anyways, you can’t keep it from him until his dad-“

“What happ’ned to ‘ad.” Stiles croaked desperately. He can hear the distinct sound of metal grinding against metal somewhere outside his room and it’s suddenly driving him up a wall. Scott’s head snapped up, surprise painted across his features. 

“Nothing man, he wasn’t even in the car.” Isaac shot Scott a dirty look which Scott turned and accepted with a guilty look. Vision was slowly clearing and the details of their faces were starting to appear. 

Scott sported a few days worth of stubble, growing in messy and scraggly patches across his china and heavy dark circles under both his eyes. Isaac looked marginally better though his face was tight and concerned and his clothes were heavily creased and obviously slept in. Stiles faintly heard Scott mutter and apology to Isaac under his breath but the sound of grinding metal was slowly rising to an unbearable level and their voices were being drowned out over the high pitched screech. 

He was about to open his mouth and ask about it when Melissa appeared in the doorway, her presence effectively shutting both boys up immediately. 

Surprise cross her face at the sight of his eyes open and watching her, a look of what Stiles dreaded to label as pain or even grief flashing right after it. She had the same dark circles that Scott did and her hospital scrubs were just as creased. Her hair was gathered in a frizzy, knotted mess at the nap of her neck, yet another clue of the stress they were all under. 

‘Wha’ hap’ned, ‘elissa.” He croaked out, feeling dread pool hot and heavy at the bottom of his stomach when her face twisted with pain. It was to much, everyone was freaking him out and the grind of metal was reaching a crescendo in his ears and causing a shattering headache to roar to life. 

He shoved his stiff arms under him, only distantly away of an IV pulling in his hand and made a move to get off the bed. 

But nothing happened.  
His midsection twisted side to side, growing intensely desperate as he found his legs remain still and stiff under the coarse hospital blanket. 

“Wha-“ 

He glanced side to side, catching sight of Melissa’s grief stricken face and the tears trailing down Scott’s scruffy cheeks. Panic was riding his body, his heartbeat pounding in his chest like it was trying to drown out the screech of metal right next to his fucking ears. 

He managed to flop his body to the side, ripping the IV completely free and driving Melissa into action at the sight of blood spurting forth from the tear in his hand and the struggles of his half dead body to leave the hospital cot. 

“Honey, calm down. I can explain but you need to calm down!” It was to much, he screamed as Isaac rushed forward to pin him back to the bed while Melissa rushed to set up the needle again on his other hand. The pinch of the needle driving into the back of his hand and the sound of his screams were lost to the sound of metal crushing in his ears, in his head where it felt as though the shredded metal was poking through his brain and through his skull. 

His legs were frozen under the sheets, twisted over one another after trying to pull himself off the bed. They were useless, heavy chunks of meat attached to his body and serving no purpose. His arm hooked up to the IV was starting to numb, feeling hardly registering. He could feel the cold bite of the sedative and the numb that continued to spread through his body as he turned half mad eyes onto Melissa’s tear streaked face as the world turned black. 

____________________________TEEN WOLF__________________________

Again, it was words that woke him. But the voice belonged to only one person this time and the light in the room was dim and yellow, tolerable to his eyes.   
“-‘arry, you can’t go into the forbidden forest. It’s called the forbidden forest for a reason.” 

His father was doing the voices. They were still as terrible as they had been back when his mother was still around to read Hermione’s part. He kept his eyes cracked open, enough to pick out the figure of his father hunched over a book in the chair next to him but not enough to alert the man that he was awake. 

He could almost hear his mother between his dad’s breaths, teasing him about his accent and cheering for Harry. If he let himself drift away from reality enough he could almost believe he was six years old again and his mother was curled around him while his dad read at the foot of the bed. 

His legs were mostly numb though, like he’d sat with them under him for too long and his father’s voice was more tired and strained then he’d ever remembered hearing it. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and slowly opened his eyes wider. 

He watched his dad read for another few minutes, meeting his eyes steadily when the man went to turn another page and noticed him watching. He paused for a long moment before continuing on the next page as he was. It was at least a half hour, well into the next chapter before his father sighed and closed the book. 

He looked like he’d aged twenty years since Stiles had last seen him in the kitchen when he’d waved goodbye and promised to pick up paper towels on his way home from school. 

How long had it been since then? Days? Months? Maybe even years. 

“I never realized what it felt like on this end until the day your mother got sick.” Stiles’s eyes snapped dup to his dad’s face. The man was staring straight ahead, his eyes far away. Stiles knew that in his mind it wasn’t his son’s sick bed he was laying by, but his wife’s. 

“I hoped I would never have to again. I told so many people that it gets better. Comforted so many people who were watching their lives change forever. I prayed it would never have to be my own son.” 

“What father wants to tell his son that he’ll never-“ His father swallowed hard, obviously choking back emotion that threatened to spill over. Stiles’s wanted to scream for a moment, deny what he knew his dad was going to say but he was so tired. His panic earlier had sapped what strength was left in his body and left behind a sense of finality and resignation. 

“I’ll never walk.” He whispered hoarsely. He could feel it was true in the numb deadness that dragged down his body below his waist. He father choked wetly, a few tears finally escaping. Stiles’s hands curled into fist under the sheets, nails biting into his palms with a sharpness he hadn’t realized he could feel in his numb state. 

“The car rolled. I told you the jeep was top heavy, I fuckin’ told you-“ He cut himself off, a snuffling sound escaping his throat like it was torn from his chest. “Right into a tree. Wrapped around it like a pretzel. The whole car was crushed sideways, you were thrown forward and a branch went through the roof of the car. Right through your back, through your spine.” 

Stiles wanted to shove his fingers in his ear and sing loudly, block out what he knew was the truth, even if he couldn’t remember any of it. 

“Incomplete injury, it took months for the swelling to go down enough to find out if you’d even have any feeling.” Months. He’d been out for months. The knowledge made his head hurt. If that was the case his eighteenth birthday had come and gone without any of the crazy plans he and Scott had for it even happening. His peers had graduated from high school, were probably in college. Where he would have been. 

He’d probably never go now. 

The knowledge hurt more than anything had so far. It was red hot pain lacing through his chest at the thoughts of all his dreams crushed mercilessly in that car along with his broken body. He sobbed brokenly, cutting off his dad’s whispered description of his injury. 

The man fell silent, watching over his son while he cried in heart wrenching sobs on the hospital cot he was trapped in. 

There was nothing he could do to make the hurt lessen. His son, who had always had his nose where it didn’t belong and been determined to be involved in a pack of werwolves despite the danger was irrevocably trapped in a wheelchair until the day he died.


End file.
